


Demons and Dimes

by writingandchocolatemilk



Series: RusAme Oneshots [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred F. Jones - Freeform, Alternative Universe - Cults, Alternative Universe - Demons, Ivan Braginsky - Freeform, M/M, RusAme, alternative universe - humans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 20:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3181862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingandchocolatemilk/pseuds/writingandchocolatemilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivan wasn’t exactly in the occult. Sure, he went to meetings and brought in the monthly donations, but it wasn’t bad. They didn’t sacrifice babies or small animals. Sometimes, the leader would request one of the members to bring in someone they knew, just to “practice” on.</p><p>It was Ivan’s turn.</p><p>“Alfred.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demons and Dimes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SomeBratInAMask](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeBratInAMask/gifts).



Ivan wasn’t exactly in the occult. Sure, he went to meetings and brought in the monthly donations, but it wasn’t bad. They didn’t sacrifice babies or small animals. Sometimes, the leader would request one of the members to bring in someone they knew, just to “practice” on.

It was Ivan’s turn.

“Alfred.”

Alfred barely looked up from his comic. “Dude, if you’re not checking out a book, you’re not allowed to stand in front of the front desk.”

Ivan returned with a book.

“Alfred, what do you think of the occult?”

The librarian scoffed. “I knew you were into some crazy stuff. What, like, Cthulhu and shit? I dunno’. I was into it for a while in high school; end of the world seemed pretty cool day before midterms. Why?”

Ivan played with the book, giving more attention to the cover than Alfred. He could feel the other man getting irritated from behind the desk, waving away another person trying to check out.

“No reason.”

Alfred sat up straighter in his chair, grabbing Ivan’s book away from him. “I didn’t want to know, anyways. Weirdo. Why are you checking out a book about hamsters? And why the hell are you in a cult?”

“I know many good people in my group,” Ivan responded, shooting a look at the growing number of people behind him. “We’re having another meeting tonight, if you’re interested in joining. We’re summoning demons.”

Ivan and Alfred had a difficult relationship. It had started when Alfred had commented on the romance novel Ivan checked out for a friend. Things had escalated to the point where Ivan chose the oddest things he could find in the library, Alfred torn between mocking him and losing his job.

Ivan thought the librarian was the most annoying shit head. Loud, arrogant, and he chewed bubblegum like it was his last meal. Ivan usually watched the blond read his comic books or flirt with various people. Sometimes, if Alfred was particularly annoying, Ivan would read a book on the USSR; the patriotic librarian would glare from over the top of his comic book.

But _ghosts_?

“Are you afraid of spirits?” Ivan asked, tilting his head.

“No.”

“You seem to be.”

Now, the two of them were standing outside of Ivan’s parish. Cult. Whatever.

“This place is creepy.”

No, it wasn’t. Sure, the forest looked a little menacing at dusk. And the building the meetings were conducted in was made out of some dark stone that was always cold to the touch. But inside was nice enough—everything was old wood and white paint.

Alfred relaxed, grabbing some snacks and chatting amicably with an English chap. The cult—parish—leader made eye contact with Ivan, nodding toward Alfred. Ivan smiled, shrugging.

Yao, the leader, clapped his hands. “Enough talking—we came here to summon our Lord!”

The members started to file into the prayer room. Ivan grabbed Alfred’s shoulder, stopping him from following. The blond slapped away his hand, grumbling and watching the crowd filter away.

“You guys are creepy.”

Ivan rolled his eyes and pointed down another corridor. “We are going in the back room. You’re not allowed to see our practices unless you’re a high level member.”

In retrospect, that probably sounded a little odd. Judging by the look Alfred shot him, _he_ definitely thought so. Walking through the creaking hallways, looking at the painted pictures of the parish’s last summoning, knowing that in the other room, a cult was praying to the dark Gods…

“Smells like old people in here.”

Well, if Alfred was bothered by any of that, he certainly didn’t act like it.

The room Ivan led Alfred into was something Yao had boasted about for months. If anyone cared to look, they would notice that the walls were a slightly darker shade of white than the rest of the building. Ivan hadn’t had the time to participate, but that English chap had told him all about it.

If you peeled back the paint, you’d find summoning pentagrams carved into the wall.

Alfred collapsed into one of the comfortable couches in the room, kicking up his feet. Ivan stared, hoping he’d get the hint that _it was a new couch_ , but the librarian just munched on his powdered doughnuts.

“How do you end up joining a cult?” Alfred finally asked, licking his fingers for the remaining sugar. “Like, do they have stands outside of grocery stores? Set up shop next to the Girl Scouts?”

Ivan remained standing, leaning against the far wall. “I met Yao at a yard sale. He invited me to see what his whole…” His hands searched for the subtle engravings on the wall behind him. “… Philosophy was about.”

Fuck. They actually _were_ there.

Alfred lost interest in the room, pulling out his phone. “So, do you, like, actually believe in all of this stuff?” When Ivan didn’t respond, “Or are you just here for the free food?”

“I don’t just think with my stomach. The people here are interesting. They think interesting things. And some of the things they dream up…” Ivan shook his head, smiling.

“You’re just here for shits and giggles, aren’t you?”

Technically, yes. Though, the symbol tattooed on the back of Ivan’s neck probably suggested something different; had to go through the motions to see his friends and all that. That was not something that could be easily explained.

Apparently, Alfred had enough. “Wanna’ ditch?” He asked and stood up, heading towards the door.

No, Ivan didn’t, but he followed after Alfred, anyways.

Fucking mosquito. Ivan slapped a hand against the back of his neck, grimacing. When he looked back up, Alfred was standing just inside the room, hand on the doorknob. He wasn’t moving.

“We usually eat raw goat after the service.” No response. “Alfred?”

The man jumped, turning his head. “Fuck, sorry, what? God, this place is creepy. Let’s go get something to eat because I thought this was going to be a lot more interesting than it was.”

The rest of the evening passed relatively uneventfully. They had stopped to get some pizza, Alfred complaining about his flat mate and his job and his videogames. Ivan broke in and started talking about the history of the coffee bean when he decided Alfred had talked for too long.

Ivan dropped Alfred off at his apartment and all was well.

And then Alfred started flirting with him.

It wasn’t the subtle, fun kind. It wasn’t snarky comments about Ivan’s choice of sweaters. It wasn’t charging late fees when Ivan had returned the book a week before it was due. It wasn’t chewing bubblegum so loud it made Ivan’s ears hurt.

It was Alfred leaning on Ivan’s desk, grinning and blushing like a mad man. It was putting his hand on Ivan’s shoulder and leaning in close to whisper in Ivan’s ear.

“What’s wrong with your voice?”

Alfred smiled pleasantly, cheeks still flushed. “What do you mean?”

The librarian sounded as though he was straining his voice to talk softer. Even his laughs sounded off: instead of loud, snorting, truly awful laughs, Alfred sound like he was _tittering_. Like a school girl. Teehee.

“Are you sick?”

Alfred looked down at his lap and scratched the back of his neck, cheeks glowing even brighter. “No, Ivan, I’m fine. What’re you reading?”

Alfred _looked_ sick. He was flushed, and his voice was off, and his breath kept catching. Satan, why was he touching Ivan? Why did he care what Ivan was reading? It was annoying. He had bought the man pizza, not a wedding ring.

 “Are you sure you aren’t sick?”

Alfred _pouted_.

Ivan slowly shut his book. “Is this a joke?”

Alfred almost looked _upset_. “Why won’t you just tell me what you’re reading?” Oh, he was _whining_. “Hey, can I ask you a question? Can I have your phone number?”

Ivan ran for the hills.

Maybe, maybe, Alfred was just being a shit head. This was not out of the realm of possibility. One afternoon, Alfred had repeatedly asked ‘what?’ every time Ivan spoke, regardless of the fact Ivan was three feet in front of him. No, it wasn’t quite abnormal yet.

Ivan gave it a week.

On Saturday, things had gotten worse. Ivan strolled into the library to see a horrific sight. Alfred was wearing a pink hoodie and cowboy boots. Ivan strolled out of the library, hands on his hips, deeply concerned. He walked back in one more time, just to make sure.

“Ivan!” Alfred called, waving, his hoodie riding up. He had shaved his stomach.

Kudos to Ivan, he didn’t run away.

Well, he didn’t until Alfred gave him a hug. A _hug_. An honest, sickeningly sweet hug. Alfred was wearing some sort of fragrance. Alfred sighed contently, even when Ivan made no move to reciprocate the action.

Then Ivan fled and hid in his car.

Frantically, he dialed Yao’s number, adjusting his seat so he was lying flat. Ivan didn’t believe in Satan or demons. But he sure as Hell was calling professionals on the off chance this shit was real.

“Yao?”

“Why are you whispering?”

Ivan peaked through his window. “I am very sorry about leaving the other day. Alfred was insistent upon leaving.”

There was the distant sound of banging pots from the other end of the line. “You can’t leave and then expect help. Blond annoying boy was your donation to the church, and you leave! I’m not helping if he possessed.”

“Yao, he really is possessed.”

Ivan imagined he could hear Yao’s seriousness. “What?”

There was a knock on the window, and although Ivan would never admit this, he jerked away. Alfred was pouting, tapping on the window and leaning against Ivan’s new car. He kept saying something in that breathy voice of his.

“I’m going to be at the church in fifteen minutes.” Ivan ended the call, fixing his seat into the right position. Then, he opened the window.  

**Author's Note:**

> Or, "In Explanation." 
> 
> Or, "Based on a Conversation About Oranges and Alfred."


End file.
